


A Full Hand

by Vietta



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vietta/pseuds/Vietta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Was I your first choice for a visit or just conveniently still here?” Reeve passes Reno his glass, watches him swallow half of it before topping it off again. The man’s complexion is ashy and his hands shake just slightly, from pain or something else, Reeve can only assume.</p>
<p>“Like I said, it’s Wednesday.” Reno takes a smaller drink this time, the first swallow burning down his middle. “We always play poker on Wednesdays.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Full Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Traxits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traxits/gifts).



**** It had been nearly a week since things started going to hell. Nearly an entire week and yet Reeve felt like the smoke still clouding the view out his window was from an explosion set off only the day before. Sector Seven was smoldering and all hands were on deck to put out the flames. Even members of SOLDIER’s elite were down there digging out the rubble. Reeve had been out in the field all day, making sure the remaining pillars stayed stable and diverting power from the few remaining reactors to try and keep lights on. There was an exhausting amount of paperwork being piled onto his desk every day; damage reports and missives from Heidegger wondering when he'd get those SOLDIERS and infantrymen back. Reeve was studiously ignoring them all.

He faced the night out his window and watched rivers of black smoke disappear into the sky, every star blotted out by its choking thickness. He mused quietly on how it could have gone differently. How, had Sephiroth murdered the President sooner, he never would have given the order. He even pondered over what the scenario would have been had Rufus succeeded in committing the patricide he had tried his hand at a year before.

The door opened very quietly, but he still heard the muffled thump of a crutch against carpeted flooring. He turned, facing his uninvited guest with a neutral expression. “You should be in bed.”

“So should you. Do ya realize what time it is Reeve?” Reno was levering himself into the room with a singular crutch, one leg plastered over. He was pale, even for a man who resembled paste when healthy. 

Reeve turned away from the wreckage behind him to survey the damage hissing as it lowered itself into a chair. “Well past time for you to be getting a painkiller from the look of you.” The terrorists had done a number on Reno. Reeve could see the outlines of bandages through what pieces of his Turk uniform he had wormed his way into. He'd been out of his hospital bed for awhile, likely without any kind of clearance from his doctors. 

“Don't worry your silly little head about me, Reeve.” Reno fished into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a worn deck of cards. He shook them out of the box and Reeve noticed many of his fingers had been splinted together. “Besides, it’s Wednesday.”

A small smile curved his lips as he cleared space on his desk, letting Reno settle in properly. “I had forgotten the day. Did you sneak out just for cards?”

“I was lonely, actually.” Blue-green eyes focus on him and Reeve can’t help the small flutter in his gut as he tugs his chair closer to the desk. Reno deals out a hand, his shuffling only slightly impeded by his bandaged hands. Reeve sees bandages along his wrist and wonders just how far up they go. He’d not seen Reno since before the day that would be remembered in history as Platefall. Through Tseng he had heard of his unlikely survival, one that was so similar to how AVALANCHE had escaped death that as soon as he’d woken Reno had been barraged with questions. Reeve had his own but he swallowed them for now, pulling two glasses from his desk and the bottle of whiskey he saved for Reno’s visits.

“Was I your first choice for a visit or just conveniently still here?” Reeve passes Reno his glass, watches him swallow half of it before topping it off again. The man’s complexion is ashy and his hands shake just slightly, from pain or something else, Reeve can only assume.

“Like I said, it’s Wednesday.” Reno takes a smaller drink this time, the first swallow burning down his middle. “We always play poker on Wednesdays.”

Steadying himself with a drink, Reeve watches as Reno starts to deal out cards. “I’m flattered.” He was a bit shocked Reno knew what day it was at all. From what Cait Sith had reported to him rather dutifully from his hiding place in the vents that morning, Reno had been struggling to stay awake for more than a few hours a day. With all the mako and drugs being shoved into his system he was surprised Reno remembered his own name. No expense had been spared in Reno’s recovery; as soon as he had been found lying prone and near lifeless in Sector Six Tseng had ordered his recovery to be made a priority. Reeve hadn’t visited him, but he’d sent Cait down to observe in his place. It was a poor substitute, but it had sufficed while he dealt with the recovery efforts being made at his direction.

He picked up his hand and decided that maybe Reno had lost a few brain cells when those terrorists bashed him around. “Are you...alright?”

The cards were all from different decks, but that wasn’t what had surprised Reeve: Reno so often lost cards that replacing them to keep the deck full was necessary. What had him confused was that his entire hand, all seven cards, are  _ rule _ cards. 

“I’m fine.” Reno settles into the chair with a wince, holding his cards in both hands awkwardly. He’s not looking at them, instead focused on Reeve with a smile that unsettles him and makes him shift in his seat, forcing his own eyes back to his cards.

“Reno, these are all rule cards.” The cards are stiff from disuse and snap slightly when Reeve places them one by one onto the desk.

“You’re really good at followin’ the rules, aren’t you, Reeve?” A shiver hits Reeve at the grit running through Reno’s voice, making it almost husky. Things had suddenly gone from amiable to intimate as Reno lowered his voice, his eyes focused on Reeve in an almost predatory manner. “You do everythin’ you’re asked, but I wonder what you’d do if what ya got asked to do somethin’...against the rules.” Reno sets down his own hand, the cards soft and nearly pliant from how often they’re used. He’s drawn on the faces of the kings and queens and jacks, slipped a dark pen over them and changed their letters, their appearance.

Reeve looks down, sees AVALANCHE poorly drawn over six cards, the seventh still held in Reno’s grasp. “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re asking me, Reno.”

“I wanna swap hands, Reeve. I’ll take care of the rules, and you get me information on this mess.” Reno isn’t pleading as he sets the last card, an ace with Cait Sith drawn settled on top of the faded black spade, in front of Reeve. He stands, though it causes him obvious pain, and he rounds the desk. Bandaged fingers curl around the back of Reeve’s chair as Reno leans down, speaking low into Reeve’s ear. “It should be easy. They’re disorganized. Not botherin’ to cover their tracks.” He reaches over Reeve’s shoulder and pulls the defaced cards closer, whispering in  the older man’s ear. “You’re my ace in the hole, Reeve. Whaddaya say?”

Shivering, his eyes hooded, Reeve swallows his remaining whiskey as he finds his mouth gone dry. It doesn’t help him, not with Reno still so close. He wants to put distance back between them so he can think, so he can breathe easier, but Reno’s holding the chair and has him caged to the desk. He takes the Cait Sith card, the ace Reno wants him to be, and runs a finger over the ink. It would be simple to do what Reno asked. He wouldn’t even have to leave Midgar, not really. It would be easy treason. “You’ll handle the rules? What do you mean?”

Reno chuckles and it’s low and right in Reeve’s ear, the air brushing his cheek. Bandaged fingers slide along his chin, turning his face and now Reno is speaking right against his mouth, using an attraction Reeve hasn’t kept hidden against him. “I’ll keep you safe from the vultures so long as you do right by us, Reeve. Do right by me, get me whatever you can about their movements, their weaknesses,” his lips are brushing Reeve’s as he speaks, his fingers trailing down his throat, “and I can make it worth your while.” Reeve shivers and leans forward, trying to catch the kiss that Reno is teasing him with, only to be met with air. Eyes he didn’t realize he had closed snapped open as the hand that snuck over his throat tightened. “But if you fuck me over,” Reno leans in and squeezes tighter, his teeth showing through his smile, “I won’t protect you from shit.” He loosens his grip and Reeve breathes shakily, his eyes wide as Reno gets close again. “Do we have an agreement?”

Reeve is trembling from a discomfiting mixture of fear and arousal as Reno’s hand drops to his chest, toying with the silk tie wrapped around his neck. He knows that if Reno wanted to, he could pull that silk and choke him with it, but the threat only makes him feel exhilaration. The card is set in Reno’s hand and Reeve nods, letting Reno pull him in for a small taste of a reward he doubts he will ever see fully realized.

Adrenaline made him accept the offer, at least that is what he tries to convince himself of later when Reno has left. He doesn’t believe himself and sips whiskey to try and get the feel of Reno’s mouth on his out of his mind.

 


End file.
